Sometime I sing Young Money’s “Every Girl” to myself, because that song is unabashedly awesome. Sometimes, I sing it to myself, because there’s a girl with a real big booty and a real short skirt in front of me on the subway stairs. Eiher way, the Young Money compilation album, We Are Young Money had some bangers on it. Unfortunately, that shit dropped four years ago, and not everyone considers “Bedrock” a modern day classic doesn’t need to be followed up.

To give us more from Young Money, we have Rich Gang—a supergroup of Young Money artist featuring (Wayne, Birdman, Mack Maine, Tyga, and Nicki). We Are Young Money 2.0. Hot Boys 3.0 or the Rap Game Justice League featuring Tyga as Aquaman. Following in the footsteps of “Bedrock” and “Every Girl”, “Tapout” is about pussy and fucking. Future is on the hook, because it’s a rap song in 2013, that actually has a video budget that includes “Mansion”. Christina Milian and Paris Hilton are in the video because Kim Kardashian and Ciara were busy. Everything is shiny, there’s a giant holographic diamond. Nicki Minaj sings “who got the baddest pussy on the planet”; this will become a mantra for uncountable girls in the projects, who put baby powder on their necks. Lil Bow Wow shows up, but isn’t allowed to rap, presumably because Birdman isn’t a terrorist.

I find myself vaguely nostalgic for the subtelty of classic, 2009 Young Money and the whimsy of Mack Maine’s bowties.

Flosstradamus bless the world with their new track “Assquake” which samples Big Sean’s immortal sermon from the mountain top, “Dance (Ass).” As expected it’s a thoroughly bass-y and powerful track, perfect for all sorts of cardiac activity, especially, the ass gymnastics. A couple of years ago, this joint would’ve only been dropped at very select, progressive strip clubs around the country, where professional ass shakers, and masters in the applied exotic dance arts would’ve vetted it for maximum “twerkability.” Now however, a banger like this drops on the internet, and by the weekend it’s being spun at someone’s quinceañera. Progress.

This leaves me wondering, have we co-opted too much from strippers, culturally? Are we, as a society, giving back enough to strip club culture, or are we just strip mining it (pun intended) for valuable, ass related resources? Imma think on that one, y’all should ponder it too. I really wanna do my part to contribute to the preservation of indigenous scrip club culture, so I’ll crumble these ones I just got from the bank, to prevent accidentally sticking when I make it rain at the club tonight.

Dudes that only fuck with Pitchfork approved rap music, prepared to be very excited. Motherfuckers that talk about Brooklyn bands, as a genre, you’re about to have your ass blown out. Your favorite indie rock band’s, favorite indie rock band, Tame Impala, just dropped the very relaxed cover of Andre 3000′s “Prototype” to hold down many a post-finals fuck session. Dudes stick pretty close to the original joint laid out by Andre, but amp up the psychedlic side ever so slightly, witha lil extra delay. I’m gonna guess that’s attributable to the one dude on guitar that looks like a member of the Allman Brothers Band, sitting in with your little brother’s “hypno groove” jam band.

Pay close attention to how Tame Impala lay down game here by covering a rap(ish) track on guitar, and having it sound entirely like rock music as not to offend the sensibilities of rock fans that “aren’t really into the rap.” All bases covered here, yet they still get street cred for going out of their comfort zone. Keep this in mind when constructing Spotify playlists for crushes and/or serenading jawns. Remember, no one wants to hear you cover “Pussy Monster” on guitar.

Host a Justice show in your house, stream their new live album Access All Arenas, because you’re too cheap or agoraphobic to go to the real thing. This is the closest you’ll get to seeing Justice without actually having to venture outside of your apartment. No need to get pressed between several hundred, half naked sweaty bros. No need to have all your clothes smell like smoke and an alcoholic’s carpet. Leave the experience with your ability to hear intact. Best yet, you won’t loose your girlfriend to the debauchery of a backstage, setup to please bi-curious French dudes. Win/Win.

When you start dancing like a drunk drag queen to the live version of “Audio, Video, Disco”, or get misty eyed over “D.A.N.C.E” you won’t have to explain to a dude you know from work that you’re not on shrooms. Instead, you’ll just have to look your dog in the eyes, but it’s cool because he licks his own asshole, which puts him in no position to judge other people’s questionably emotional outbursts. Pets are great.